Losing You
by winterfells
Summary: Set after 4.08, Daryl and Beth are forced to leave the prison. But will they be able to run forever? And if they do, can they keep each other physically and emotionally safe. Semi-slow burn Bethyl, I'm awful at summaries.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: Hello fellow Bethyl shipper, thanks for taking an interest in my story! It's obviously a Daryl/Beth centered fic, and it'll be slightly 'slow burn' with these two. You might find that some parts they'll seem a little OOC, but there is a method to my madness. This isn't my first fic, but it is my first Bethyl fic. Enjoy!**

Running is what would keep them alive, Beth told herself._ It's how I've stayed alive this long_. Running from the farm when it was taken over by walkers, running with the group place too place during the harsh winter, and when she was convinced the running was over, she had to run from the prison.

When Beth and Daryl left the temporary sanctuary; they ran and didn't stop. She forced herself to stare straight at his winged vest; fighting the urge to look back at the wreckage, as he led them into the woods. They took down any walker in their path, not stopping for anything. But now, after running for what felt like hours she could feel herself slowing. Beth's mind played Maggie's face and the death of her father over in her mind until the thoughts weighed down her body. Before she knew it she was standing still, gripping the knife in her hand until her knuckles turned white.

Beth knew she wasn't made for the horrors that surrounded her. Watching her father die was not only painful, but a reality check. This world was not Beth's world. When she lived at the farm she was terrified of the place outside her door, now she knew the world inside and out, and she hated it; she was weak mentally and physically. Not only did she feel a deep sadness for the loss of her father and Maggie, but she felt a siring rage.

"Beth," a sad voice broke into her thoughts. It was Daryl, but the Daryl that stood in front her was not the man she was used to. He looked worse than Beth did. Blood and cuts layed over across his upper body, but the biggest change was his face: Daryl looked broken. "We gotta keep movin'. Just a little bit further is all. We need to find shelter for the night, we can rest when we find a place." The words spilled from his mouth like he was trying to convince not only Beth, but himself to keep going. After a moment Beth made herself put one foot in front of the other, wiping the blood from her knife on her pant leg. Daryl's plea making her run quicker than before, passing trees in a blur. Beth made herself focus on her surroundings, not only looking out for walkers, but obstacles on the ground that would slow her pace. She was a mess, but for now, she would pretend she was strong.

/

When the woods finally broke apart Beth saw a small camping ground in front of her. Most of the spots for actual camps were empty except for a few wrecked tents here and there. Beth slowed her pace and looked around; the area seemed abandoned. She gripped her knife tightly as Daryl walked beside her, "We should split up, see if we can find any supplies," Beth said quietly, Daryl opened his mouth to protest but the blond cut him off, "We can stay in eye shot of each other and cover more ground that way."

Daryl wanted to fight her suggestion but he knew she was right, and even in the shit storm of it all, he felt a tinge of satisfaction. Beth was suddenly being strong. Something he didn't exactly expect coming from her. She had seemed so soft and quiet since the day he met her, always walking around the prison in shadows, with baby Judith on her hip.

Daryl raised his crossbow and nodded his head, parting from her and making way toward a small tent. He circled the small area and checked inside the abandoned shelter, finding nothing but emptiness. He left the tent feeling suddenly exhausted. They had nothing. No supplies, no food, no water, no home.

Daryl turned in Beth's direction but couldn't see her; he tensed. Without thinking he headed in her direction, putting his crossbow at eye level, scanning the area for her, "Beth," He whispered as he searched, when he didn't hear a response Daryl raised his voice a little louder, feeling his chest start to rise and fall quickly. "Beth!" For a moment Daryl was convinced she had taken off, for whatever reason he wasn't sure. But this couldn't be happening, she couldn't have just left him. For the first time in a very long time Daryl felt alone. The thought of his make-shift family passing before his eyes; people that he had grown close to were gone. He felt his chest tighten as the prison crossed his mind. He didn't know who lived and who died, that was the hardest part. Was Rick alive? Carl? Michonne? Anyone? Without thinking he raised his voice, yelling her name one final time.

A branch snapped behind him and he whirled around pointing his crossbow at the woods. The trees and bushes shook and he braced himself to kill whatever put itself in front of Daryl. A long blond ponytail caught his eye and Beth's face quickly came into view. Her once doe eyes were hard and alert, ready to attack. He let a breath out he didn't know he was even holding, lowering his crossbow.

She ran to him quickly, "Everything alright?" She scanned him, but saw nothing wrong. Beth could see him hesitate before finally speaking, "What happened to eye shot?" He noticed the knife she was holding was covered in blood again, along with her hands.

"I ran into a walker," Beth said noticing his eyes on her knife. Before Daryl could say anything she turned on her heel and started toward the trees again, "But I found something, somewhere we could stay."

Daryl followed behind Beth, and when he looked up he was in disbelief. In front of him was a camper, a lot like the one Dale owned. It was a bit smaller, but it was enough. He walked toward it, examining the glorious discovery.

"I made sure it was clear inside," Beth said quietly, "It looks like it's only one around. I don't know if it's driveable but it's something. The inside is nice if you don't count the dead walker on the floor, but I'll take care of that."

He nodded quickly, making a mental note to keep his eye on Beth. He had seen what this world made people out of, and he if he had any power left in him at all, he wouldn't let this world ruin Beth. They had already lost so much.

**AN2: So yeah, that's the start. I had a really hard time opening this story, mostly because it was hard to write weak!Beth and Strong!Daryl, which is usually what the dynamic is with them. But again, OOC and all that. Rate and review if you'd like! Constructive criticism is always welcomed as well, and I'm 100% open to suggestions!**


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl threw the crossbow over his shoulder and walked into the shelter, spotting the dead walker on the floor to his right. Besides the dead walker, the place looked untouched. To the left was a little kitchen with a sink, fridge, and one counter. Across the kitchen was a table with two chairs. He walked in further, surveying the small area. "I'm gonna check the bedroom and bathroom for anything useful. You check the kitchen." It was Beth's voice again, barking orders at him like he'd never searched a place in his life. "Hell will freeze over before I take another order from you, girl." He replied.

Beth shrugged and brushed passed him, heading down the hallway passed the kitchen. For a moment the air smelled like woods and coconut. How was it even possible for her to smell this nice after running for an hour? He shook the thought from his mind, inwardly scolding himself. This was not the time or place for distractions.

Daryl decided to take care of the dead walker. Partly because the smell was starting to make his eyes water, and he just didn't feel like listening to the young blond tell him what to do. He stood over the walker, seeing it's head split and the brain exposed from the knife Beth shoved into it. He was slightly impressed.

Daryl took the corpse by it's arms and lugged it across the room and down the steps, hearing revolting noises as the bones and guts dragged over the ground. He finally set the walker a few feet away from the camper leaving the dead corpse in some bushes. He lifted his head to the sky, the sun was starting to set and he wondered if everyone else had found somewhere safe to stay for the night. But he knew not think positively, more likely than not everyone was dead.

When he reentered the shelter, Beth was sitting at the table, with something in her hand. "What'd you find?" Daryl said. Beth gave him the closest thing to a smile she could muster, "First aid kit. Figured you'd wanna clean the blood off yourself and fix up that wound. Daryl sat down across from her as she pushed the kit toward him. "I'm used to it," he said looking down at his arms. They were caked in blood that wasn't his. But his shirt was torn at the shoulder, where his blood was seeping through. Daryl thought back to the prison; a bullet had grazed his shoulder, and siring pain had coursed through him. But he couldn't stop moving, couldn't stop fighting. He had to protect his family, but the prison had fallen, and he had failed.

For a moment they were stuck in silence, both caught in thoughts of the prison. Now that they were sitting still, all that happened was catching up to them. The gun fire, walkers, families and friends they didn't know if they'd ever see again. Beth finally cut the silence with a sigh and stood, sick of thinking about the horror they had just been through. She quickly moved to the kitchen, finding a two rags that would help clean off his arms. Beth returned opening the first aid kit and found it almost empty except for bandages, a small bottle of rubbing alcohol, band aids, and scissors. She rolled her eyes, it wasn't much, but it was something.

Beth could feel Daryl's questioning eyes on her as she moved her chair next to his. She sat and braced herself for the moment of awkwardness that was about to come, "Take your shirt off," she told him quickly. He snapped his head at her, more confused than ever.

"Why?" He shifted awkwardly in his seat. Most days he would have said something brash, or rude depending on his mood, but Daryl had no energy tonight. Beth lightly wet a rag in alcohol, when Daryl finally realized what she was doing he sighed. "I said I was fine, Beth. Don't go wasting any of that shit on a little bit of blood and a cut."

She shook her head annoyed, "It's _a lot_ of blood, and a very deep cut, now stop fussing and let me see." She gave him a hard look and he stared at her in disbelief. They had just been through hell, ran for their lives, and somehow she was still fighting. This girl was frustrating and interesting all at once.

She locked eyes with him, and he could tell that even if he did put up a fight, this time he wouldn't win. He shook his head, sliding off his vest and pulling off his shirt. Daryl tilted towards the wall, hiding his back. It was something he always did around people he wasn't comfortable with, and if Daryl was being honest, that was everyone.

Beth pressed her lips together as Daryl set his shirt down. The cut was deeper than she thought, but didn't look infected. At least not yet. She let out a sigh of relief, lightly touching one of the cloths to the wound. She was surprised when he didn't flinch. "It don't hurt?" She asked quietly.

He shook his head and looked down at her concentrated face dabbing his cut, "Nah. Told ya, I'm used to it." They stayed in silence while she finished up his shoulder. Beth grabbed a bandaged and wrapped it around Daryl's upper arm. She bit her lip as she wrapped the fabric around his strong skin, never realizing until now how big his arms actually were. If she had to admit it, and she never would, he had nice arms. Hell, he had a nice everything, really.

She finished, throwing the rag on the table and looking up. She found him staring at her, and Beth's stomach dropped. His eyes were so blue, even in the barely lit camper, she could make them out perfect. Beth, for the first time today, felt safe exactly where she was.

Daryl was the first to break eye contact, and when he did Beth sucked in a breath. "You can put some alcohol on that other rag and clean off your arms if you want." Beth said quietly walking into the bedroom she took one of the two pillows and a blanket out to lay on the floor. "You can sleep on the bed. I'm gonna crash out here." Beth knew she wouldn't sleep tonight, but she had to put some distance between her and Daryl.

Daryl shook his head slowly, "You take the bed tonight. We can alternate." He was so confused at how put together she was. Everything about her seemed calm and collected, and he felt the complete opposite.

"Are you sure?" Beth asked wide eyed, "You're the one with the bad shoulder. Probably be kind of painful on the floor."

"I'll manage," He said quietly, standing, and taking the blanket and pillow from Beth. Their hands brushed, and they met eyes again. Beth's eyes grew wide with shock, and before he could say anything, she had turned on her heel and into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

He sighed and set the bedding on the floor. Daryl grabbed the rag and dipped it in alcohol, rubbing it up and down his arms. Daryl shook his head in the direction of the bedroom. Beth was more of a mystery than he thought, and now that he was with her, he wasn't sure he wanted to leave her side.

**So there's chapter two! I was actually quite happy with this chapter, and for once the story just kind of ****flowed out of me. I wanted to form slight sexual tension between these two, but nothing to extreme YET. ****They're both still very broken up about the prison (it's only been a few hours) and, for lack of a better ****word, attraction is not really the first thing on their minds. Anyway, reviews are great, and it'd be ever better if you left one!**

**PS - Wasn' that the best 12 minutes of Bethyl ever tonight? :D**


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